Winter Storm
by Celtic Spacey
Summary: Beckett knew there was no such thing as a quiet day. And now Castle is missing, with no obvious sign of where he has gone. Can Beckett balance the case, protect Alexis from those responsible, and return Castle in one piece?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Beckett knew there was no such thing as a quiet day. A quiet day in her line of work meant a day when there were no cases, and whilst there were no cases there was a lot of paperwork that always seemed to be piling up. Add into that the fact that no current case meant that she had three very bored boys one her hands, trying to distract one another and her, quiet days were in her mind the worst.

They had finished their latest case only the evening before. A spousal argument that had ended in the wife trying to make it look as though her husband had been murdered in a mugging gone bad when she had been the one to stab him. Over an affair. That he had been having with her brother.

Castle had laughed like a mad man after the woman had confessed to that one. Which is why Beckett couldn't really understand why he hadn't shown up that morning to make comments as she'd filed the paperwork. She'd grown increasingly confused when her shadow had failed to put in an appearance the further into the day they got, but she had brushed it aside. He had done this before. For several days in their first year of him shadowing her he had failed to answer his phone or put in even one appearance at the precinct, and she had been close to going to his loft apartment and breaking down the door to find out the problem before he had appeared, looking tired but happy and stating that he had finished Heat Wave only three weeks after the set deadline. And then he had thrown himself into his chair beside her desk and watched her, smirking. She understood why now. She was of the firm belief that in those few days he had written the sex scene in chapter eleven. Evil genius had probably sat there and thought about it the entire time that stupid grin had been on his face.

Still, that did not stop her from glancing at her phone every five minutes to make sure a call hadn't come through without her notice. And Ryan and Esposito stopped trying to distract her from her work by mid-morning when they realised that the lack of her shadow lurking in his chair was doing a better job than the three of them could ever do together.

Beckett sighed, drumming her fingers against the edge of the keyboard as her eyes made the now familiar round they'd be following all day; chair, phone, over her computer – just encase Castle was trying to sneak in now – back to the computer monitor. It was verging on eight pm, so she wasn't sure why she was even still watching out for him, all he'd been able to talk about the night before as they had packed up after the case was how he was going to order Chinese and make sure the house was ready for Alexis. She smiled to herself, remembering the child-like happiness on his face. Alexis had been gone for two weeks now; a school trip in the last week of term and a holiday away with friends, but she was home today; at about five or six if Beckett remembered correctly. If Castle remembered correctly; he'd been so excited yesterday that the time had alternated between the two persistently throughout the conversation, but Beckett was sure that he would double check today. Alexis had probably set a reminder on his phone before she'd left for that matter, she more than anyone knew of her father's child-like mind.

She shook her head, banishing the thoughts, and tried once again to focus on the document open on the computer. She hadn't done nearly as much work as she would have liked, and she wanted to blame Castle, although he wasn't there to blame. But that in itself was the problem. At least when he was around, grinning at her like a school boy and plotting with Ryan and Esposito, she could tell him off and then get back to work. With him not around she kept on _looking_ for him, like it was all some big elaborate joke they were pulling and he'd appear in front of her desk when she least expected it, grinning over the fact that he'd scare the life out of her...

"Detective Beckett?"

The voice actually made her jump, and her head shot up so fast that she almost gave herself whiplash. Looking at her from over the top of her computer monitor was a Castle yes, but not her Castle. _Close but no cigar_. Her eyes did a quick sweep of the precinct, didn't find Richard Castle, and focussed on Alexis Castle instead. Almost stared her down, like Castle had managed to get his daughter in on the joke he may or may not be playing on her.

"Hey," she said, smiling "How was the holiday?" Holidays technically. Castle had been more than a little miffed that Alexis had gone on two separate holidays, without him, on two consecutive weeks. He'd been a little lost, she felt, especially with Martha out of state filming for some television series. The female influences that Castle couldn't screw were few, each one special to him because of that, without at least one he was as vulnerable as a child.

"It was good," Alexis' voice was never that small, that quiet, and that raised an eyebrow; again her eyes made a lap of the precinct. It was a quiet day all round, the place was silent, getting close to deserted "Ummm... Is my dad here? Only he never picked me up, and it's been two hours, but I figured if you had a case-"

Beckett was up so fast her chair shot back and slammed into the desk behind hers, a cold cup of coffee, previously forgotten on her desk sloshed onto the wood, and now she looked, _really_ looked at Alexis. The red on her cheeks from the cold not just defined but _stark_ because she was pale, not due to her skin colour but from fear, her body shaking because of that and not because she was cold. She'd accounted everything from her previous look at the girl to the cold because it was December, it had snowed the day before; Castle had come in cradling a mug full of snow and it had sat on Beckett's desk even after it had become water just because he had looked like a six year old boy when he had put it there, but Alexis was plain terrified rather than cold, and looking for her father. Her father who Beckett hadn't seen all day.

She was around the desk in seconds, her hands taking the girls shoulders gently, she could feel the shakes better than she could see them, Alexis all but vibrating in her coat, and she noted the case that stood beside Alexis' side before she led her around to sit in the chair her father usually sat in, nodding her head to Ryan and Esposito, both half rising from where they'd been sat at Ryan's desk, heads together in the way Beckett knew as their conspiratory stance. And as she turned her back to them, pushing Alexis gently but firmly into the chair, she could see the pair moving towards them.

"Alexis?" she said softly, watched the girl's eyes rove the room. Gods but she had to be terrified. She knew Alexis, knew her to be smart and independent and head-strong, frightened was not something she wanted to see on the girl, terrified was something that scared her horrifically. "Alexis, what happened? How did you get here?" she entertained the idea of a car accident even as her eyes did a more thorough check of Alexis. She looked unharmed, but if she'd hit her head she could be confused and had wandered off to somewhere she recognised, forgetting she'd left Castle behind in the car...

"I got a taxi," Alexis murmured, she was turning her head now, still looking for Castle even as she spoke "I waited for at the station for ages but dad didn't arrive so I came here. Is he alright?" she was trembling harder now, visibly, and a jacket appeared from seemingly nowhere, going across her shoulders. Beckett glanced up and nodded her thanks to Esposito, noted the tight line of the man's lips as he listened to Alexis.

"Maybe he's got caught up?" Beckett suggested, trying to keep a rational head even as her mind ran through ideas. From the corner of her eye she saw Ryan appear with Captain Montgomery, both of them looking concerned, watching Alexis closely "If he was writing a new Nikki Heat book he could have..."

"No!" Alexis cut in harshly, Beckett had never seen her like that, and swung back slightly as though the girl had physically tried to take a hit at her "I set his alarm to go off this morning and at five, and I rang six times. He didn't pick up and his phone is set to _scream_ when he's writing so he will answer if it's me or gran. Please, he's got to be around." Her eyes were beginning to well up, one tear slowly tracked its way from one eye and down her face, that in itself was the moment of complete panic, and Beckett looked at each of the men in the room, saw Ryan and Esposito head for their phones even as Captain Montgomery headed towards her, face solemn, suggestive that all hell had been handed to them. And Beckett quietly agreed as she watched Alexis try to hold herself together even as a second tear followed the marks of the first. Quiet days were officially the worst.


	2. Chapter 2

Beckett trod familiar ground as she followed the corridor to the loft apartment, fingers drumming gently against the butt of her handgun as she walked. She shot a glance backwards at the two men following behind her; Esposito and Ryan practically on her heels as she moved. She shook her head minutely at the worry on their faces, trying to believe it was not imprinted upon her own features, the tension was practically palpable and if Castle was just sleeping off an all-nighter or something similar she would murder him herself. Pushing away the thought she pulled her phone from her ear as it went to voice-mail once again, growling angrily as she pocketed it and freed her gun from its holster completely, hand falling loosely over it.

"He's still not picking up," she said to Ryan and Esposito, pulling from her pocket the front door key Alexis had given her when they had decided to search the house, and denied the girl from going as well. A feeling in Beckett's gut told her that was the right choice. The same feeling that had her readily reaching for her gun. "If he's here I'll smack him with his cell phone," she could practically see the smirk Esposito gave behind her as they stopped before the hall door. The two men falling into well practiced positions either side of her before she raised her hand and knocked on the door.

"Castle!" she shouted through the partition, "Castle, open up now!" Silence. Stretching over a minute in which no one moved, and then she tipped her head towards the door, a frown creeping over her face as she listened.

"Television?" Ryan guessed, hearing the same sound that she was listening to, and she shrugged, snapping from the trance she'd fallen into trying to pinpoint and recognise the sound, and knocked on the door again.

"Castle!" louder this time, more insistent, recognising that the other tenants of the block would likely complain of the noise she was making, not caring, the feeling in her gut was churning now, a glance to the boys told her they felt the same "Castle, if you don't open the door now I am going to break it down!" silence, other than the noise of the possible television, and then she nodded to the pair, listening as they both drew their sidearm's, and placed the key in the lock.

The smell of whiskey hit her as soon as the door was opened, and a single step over the threshold had her looking down, taking in the broken glass on the floor, the small pool of liquid the pieces sat in, and the shard she had stood upon and crushed beneath her foot. She drew her gun without thinking, jerking her head to Ryan and Esposito; _check carefully_.

They moved further into the apartment, bodies tensed, fingers poised over gun triggers, eyes taking in everything. Beckett's eyes made a quick scan of the room, registered no threat, and focussed on the television; the source of the sound indeed, for there was a film playing on it, one of the old black and white silent ones, the backing music the sound that they had heard from the corridor.

Ryan was moving up the stairs, heading towards the bedrooms with Esposito on his tail as she turned a slow circle. The lower floor of the loft was obviously deserted, although that was no reason for her to become comfortable and lower her weapon, instead she ran a cynical eye over everything, examining the room for anything that suggested why Castle wasn't answering his phone.

"Upstairs is clear," Ryan called out as he and Esposito started back down the stairs, making Beckett nod thoughtfully, the shattered whiskey glass had spoken volumes towards the fact that Castle wasn't around, but she could find no other obvious signs of chaos. Only their mystery writer could leave behind such a _solid_ mystery.

"Call it in," she said, turning another slow circle, rechecking everything, moving towards the couch and perching on the edge, plucking Castle's cell phone from the table and pressing a button to light up the screen. Thirty-four missed calls. She wasn't surprised, she had tried to get through to him numerous times and Alexis was probably still trying. "Talk to security, see if they know if anyone suspicious was hanging around last night."

She stood for a moment as the two men moved to do as she bade, trying to work out what to do next, before she moved across the room, heading towards the partitioned section that marked Castle's office. In her head, she saw the man in his chair behind the desk, head bent close to the monitor as he typed, only to look up startled when he realised she was there, startled by her appearance in his apartment. Instead the room was empty, quiet save for the low hum of the computer's fan. She moved directly for the desk, and stared at the computer, a wry smile crossing her face as she watched the screensaver play across over and over. She doubted it was as much of an incentive as it was supposed to be, but that was probably why Castle liked it.

Her hand ghosted over the mouse, eliminating the screensaver and bringing up a word document. Her eyes scanned it quickly, noting a chapter of a new Nikki Heat novel, what Castle had been watching before he'd been distracted into watching his film no doubt.

Beckett straightened up then, her eyes scouring the room quickly and a frown drawing across her face. Castle's office was usually perfectly tidy, and whilst most of the room echoed this sentiment one of the lower shelves had to all appearances exploded across the floor. The folders typically lined up in the low shelf were lying on the floor before the emptied space, numerous papers from inside strewn across the floor. She moved around the desk and crouched before the strewn papers, looking at them carefully.

"Captain says to treat it like a typical crime scene for now," Esposito said, stepping into the office, his phone disappearing into his pocket.

"It's not our jurisdiction," Beckett said absently, they handled homicides, kidnapping cases belonged to Sorenson and his team.

"Captain's making some calls," Esposito responded, "Castle's one of us after all." Beckett nodded, and her head shot up as the man behind her whistled.

"What?" she asked, turning her head to see Esposito stood by the desk, a bottle in one hand.

"Jameson Limited Reserve," he said, a touch of excitement in his voice "This is really good, expensive stuff." He set the bottle back on the desk, and glanced back into the main house "It proves it," he added finally.

"Proves what?"

"You don't drop a glass of Jameson's Limited without good reason." He told her, "Whoever grabbed Castle grabbed him at the door."

X

Castle woke up slowly, feeling heavy and disjointed. For several moments he was still, blinking as he allowed his brain to catch up with the rest of his body. Then he raised his arm, felt it move slowly, as though moving through treacle, and waved it in front of his face several times, feeling his breath against his palm, hot and heavy. His forehead creased, and he lowered his hand, touching his nose carefully with his palm.

"Well _hell_," he said into the dark, blinking in the hope of perceiving _anything_ through the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

He wasn't sure how long he was there. Just lay there in the dark, staring up, or what he hoped was up, trying to see through the dark at the same time that his brain ran a mile a minute in the attempt to piece together what had happened.

The problem was that his mind worked to quickly, his thoughts shortly went from trying to figure out his problem to putting Jameson Rook into a similar situation. He'd locked the man into a shipping crate, had him stuck in the dark and the heat and trying to find a loose nail or rough plank or something he could remove the ropes that held his arms at his back before his air ran out before he realised that his eyes were adjusting to the dark.

For a minute he simply lay there, blinking in what was no longer pure dark but instead murky dark, and he lurched up to a sitting position.

He swayed for a moment, disorientated from the sudden shift in position and the lack of light, grounding himself with both hands, feeling rough cold concrete beneath his palms, looking around him, trying to create a picture of where he was from what little he could see in the dark.

A room. Not as Rook was trapped in a shipping crate, but an actual room, he was in one corner, giving him the full view of the room. Or as much as he could see before it was swallowed into the dark. What he could see gave him the idea that the room was square, or near enough. Unless the room was longer after it fell completely into the shadows at the end of the room. There was very little in the room with him, large shadows he guessed were boxes, a tall object that looked like shelves, and an object that looked eerily like a desk to him.

He frowned, and pulled himself up to stand, using the wall at his back for support as he found his legs. His entire body felt heavy to him, and he remembered a Derek Storm book in which he had made the antagonist drug Storm with a cocktail of drugs. A conversation with one his medically minded friends had told him that Storm would have woken up feeling heavy, disorientated, the same way that he felt now. He wondered if it was the same combination of drugs used, tried to remember what he had used on Storm, it had been a while ago, and his head hurt and felt full of cotton, God if it was a similar run of drugs he had definitely written Storm's character right at that point.

He took a step forwards now, stopped when something at his ankle pulled, looked down.

It took him a moment with the lack of light, but he realised that what was at his ankle was a knot of rope, disappearing into the gloom to the wall he leant against. Again he remembered Storm, and found everything suddenly highly amusing, sinking onto the floor in a fit of laughter. Was the rope really supposed to stop him? He could easily untie it and run. If they had wanted to prevent his movements it would have made more sense to tie his arms as well, or at least use metal chain instead of rope.

His laughs died quickly, cut off suddenly, and his entire body tensed. Not because of his situation, though that was highly serious and of no laughing matter. Instead it was something he heard. Above him, moving across what he counted as the ceiling, were footsteps.

X

Beckett flicked on the light beside the door of her apartment and stepped back, letting Alexis step into the main room of her house. She watched the girls eyes flicker across the room, as though she was expecting her father to be sat on the couch or in stood behind the counters in the kitchen. Despite the fact that Castle had never once stepped foot in this apartment, Beckett privately hoped for the same, had been unable to prevent her eyes from scanning the room for Castle as soon as the light had come on.

"It's not as big as the loft," she said softly, and Alexis shook her head

"The loft is too quiet if gran and dad are out," she said quietly, ducking her head and giving Beckett a shy smile, she didn't think shy fit with Alexis. The Castle family were not to be associated with the word shy in any way she felt, and yet Alexis was stood before her looking shy and awkward and as little like Castle's daughter as possible.

"Make yourself at home," Beckett said, ushering the girl further into the room, closing the door behind her. Alexis set her bag beside the door, moved across the room, looking around with a small smile on her face.

"Dad says Nikki Heat's place is a mess," she said, her smile becoming cheekier, more Alexis like, and Beckett shook her head in response, moving further into the room herself. Her gaze did a careful sweep of the place as she moved, since the bomb in her old place she was careful to do a sweep before she did anything else, felt more diligent in the need to search with Alexis in the house.

"Trust Castle to make Nikki a slob," she said, dropping her keys and bag onto the kitchen counter, hand hovering over the gun she still had in her holster, watching Alexis move further into the apartment.

"He said that you wouldn't let him in enough, and you would be either a compulsive tidier or a complete slob," the grin widened now, and he eyes roamed the spotless room "Guess he thought wrong."

"Or right," Beckett responded, making Alexis whirl around to face her, confusion in her eyes, making Beckett smile herself now "He likes to get on my last nerve, making Nikki Heat a slob pretty much does that." The grin Alexis returned seemed the most genuine of all those she'd shown so far.

"Do you want a soda?" Beckett asked, hand on the fridge door, moving away as Alexis shook her head. The girl was hovering by the couch, confused about whether she should sit or not before dropping into the cushions. Beckett pulled her gun from its holster now, removing the clip before placing both on the fridge, removing her phone as well now, glancing at it in the secret hope that Castle would call just from sheer will power. Phone in her hand she moved across the room, sitting on the arm of the chair opposite the couch.

"We'll order in," she told Alexis "My refrigerator's empty until I go shopping, and I need to find the time," she could never find the time, that was the problem, though she wouldn't admit it "The spare room is on the right," she nodded her head to the room in question "My room directly opposite, and the bathroom between the two. We'll get you into the loft to get some more clothes tomorrow. I can put your clothes in the washer now as well." The suitcase Alexis had was full of dirty clothes from her holiday, they couldn't get into the loft until it had been fully checked for prints, which is what Ryan and Esposito were currently doing, not that she would tell Alexis that. The only reason she wasn't in the loft with them trying to get clues on Castle's whereabouts was because she needed to be sure Alexis was safe. Safe currently amounted to her apartment.

"Thank you Beckett," Alexis said, shivered, and pulled her knees up to her chest, hands linked around her shins, she looked like a child, looked a lot younger than her true age, sounded it when she asked "Do you think my dad's alright?"


	4. Chapter 4

When her mother had died she had been plagued by nightmares every night for a number of nights. She supposed that was why when Alexis had first screamed in the depths of the nights she was up and out of her own bedroom before her mind had even truly woke up.

She slammed the door to the spare bedroom open, eyes snapping around the room even as she made for the bed, her brain ingrained to check for threats even when she was sure there were none. None other than those in Alexis' head at least.

The girl had stopped screaming by now, curled up and pressing as far into the headboard as she could, arms around her knees and sobbing into her knee caps, a curtain of red hair shielding her from the world.

"Alexis?" Beckett called as she slowed down, stepped up to the bed. Alexis' covers were thrown across the bed, the floor, everywhere but covering the girl herself. The room was cold, how much of Alexis' shaking was fear, how much temperature?

"Alexis?2 she repeated, kneeling on the edge of the bed, reaching out when she got no response.

Alexis jerked when her hand touched her shoulder, and then her head shot up, hair parting, showing a pale face, tear streaked cheeks, blood shot eyes.

"He died," she whispered, lips trembling, and Beckett shook her head, shifted her weight on the bed, sitting now instead of kneeling

"It was a dream," she promised the girl "You had a nightmare."

"No," Alexis whispered, more tears squeezing from her eyes, trembling harder. Fear, no other explanation. "I saw it happen. He's dead."

"Alexis, no," Beckett said gently "Listen, it was a nightmare. You're worried, and you're stressed. It's a nightmare. We're looking for Castle now., We're going to find him."

"But he might not be alive," Alexis whispered again, more tears pouring from her eyes "You can't promise me that. He could be dead when you find him." She was all out crying now, and Beckett had to take several breaths to stop her own tears. The girl was right, they had no guarantee that Castle was alive and well. They could only pray that he'd be fine when they found him.

She shifted on the bed, pulling her legs up and shuffling over on the bed to sit beside Alexis, shoulders brushing. When she had woken up when she was younger, when she had been pulled from sleep to images of her mother's death, she had found comfort in hugs.

She shifted again, looked to the sobbing girl beside her, and gently slipped her arm around Alexis' shoulders. The girl reacted immediately, sobs becoming louder as she melted into Beckett's side, burying her face in the woman's shoulder as she sought the given comfort.

She cried herself to sleep some time later, Beckett falling asleep fifteen minutes later.

X

Castle stood frozen for a minute, head turned upwards to the ceiling, trying to follow the footsteps, trying to picture the scene.

Someone moving through the house above him, stalking around the house. In his head, still half in Rook's mind, it was a Russian, coming to interrogate him, in one hand he held a knife, in the other hand a canister of petrol. There would be a lighter in his pocket, he would cut Rook for the information, then burn him alive. Unless Rook escaped first.

The footsteps had faded out slightly, and then a rectangle of light cut the dark at the other side of the room. In his Rook mind he gasped involuntarily, pressing flush against the wall and narrowing his eyes against the light. It was high up, against the ceiling, he could make out stairs. Light beyond the door, guessed he was in a basement of some kind.

A figure cut into the rectangle of light left by the open door, smaller than his imaginary Russian, and then light flared brilliantly across the basement as a light was turned on, making Castle shout at the sudden abuse to his retinas.

His hands over his eyes, seeing spots behind his eyelids, back still solid against the wall, trying to keep him as far away from the person at the door even though he couldn't see them.

The spots in his eyes disappeared, and he tentatively lowered his hands, pushed back again when he realised the person wasn't at the door, cast around the room in the hope of finding them.

He gave a shout when he found the person, lurched backwards, forgetting the wall behind him and slamming his head hard against the wall.

"Son of a-!" he shouted, rubbing the back of his head, looking again at the person. Definitely not the Russian he had imagined. Not tall and thin with a scraggly beard. Short and thin, perfectly styled hair, a loose shirt and jeans, and a woman.

Definitely not his Russian. He'd been caught by a woman. This was embarrassing

"Mister Castle?" she said, voice familiar and yet not. Husky, low, undeniably sexy. Under other circumstances he'd probably hit on her. "I am your biggest fan."

And no doubt crazy.


End file.
